A Scandal in Oxford
by violet lily13
Summary: A few months after getting married to the famous detective, Mary Russell continues her work in Oxford, only to find that Holmes' world comes to lay claim on her again in the form of a gristly suicide or is it murder. Undergoing revisions
1. The Victim

A Scandal in Oxford  
  
~ * * * ~  
  
The characters of Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Mrs. Hudson, and Mary Russell all belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Laurie R. King. The character of Harriet Vane belongs to Dorothy L. Sayers. All other characters belong to me and are entirely fictional.  
  
~ * * * ~  
  
I was so engrossed in the work I was doing that autumn day of 1921 in the Bodleian Library that I jumped when the courteous library assistant tapped my shoulder.  
  
"Miss Russell, it's nearly closing time," he said nervously.  
  
I looked up and my eyes went out of focus, so I took off my glasses.  
  
"Yes, of course," I replied, "Do you mind waiting for a moment while I tidy up?"  
  
"Not at all," he said with a smile. "In fact, Miss Woodhouse told me the same thing when I told her not a few minutes ago. Isn't she the person you are tutoring, Miss Russell? That's what I've heard."  
  
"Yes, I'm tutoring Miss Woodhouse, in theology actually," I said curiously.  
  
"Excuse me now, Miss Russell, but I have some cleaning up to do," he said brightly, disappearing among the shelves.  
  
I rubbed my eyes, then put my glasses back on and went to tidy up my work table. When I finished, I left and headed for the rooms that I was renting. I had just reached the front door of the house, but was stopped by someone calling my name.  
  
"Miss Russell!" It was Lily Woodhouse, the girl who I had just begun to tutor at the beginning of the term. "Goodness, you walk fast! I've been trying to catch up with you since the Bodleian. I just have a few questions to ask about the rabbi Akiva."  
  
So instead of writing my article for an American journal, I worked with Lily on her studies. I was not a formal tutor in Oxford because I lived in Oxford for only part time. For the rest of the time, I lived mostly in Sussex with my husband of not yet a year, Sherlock Holmes, and sometimes in London, where I had a flat.  
  
For the first time in many days, I thought about my husband, who had been my friend and teacher since I was fifteen. It seemed strange that we should be married now, but after a gruelling case earlier in the year, we decided that it would be better that way. In my reverie, I fiddled with the gold band on my finger. Lily looked up and noticed this and the look on my face.  
  
"Miss Russell, is something wrong?"  
  
"No, Lily, I'm fine. What was it that you were asking about again?"  
  
"I asked if you were married. I saw the ring on your finger and got curious." She looked at me for a moment and blushed. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's alright. I'm sorry if I've hurt you in any way, Miss Russell. You've done so much to help me in theology and now I've gone and put my foot in my mouth."  
  
I laughed and hurried to reassure her. "You're right, Lily, I am married. But you didn't hurt me by asking me. I'm not one of those women who lost their fiances in the war. In fact, I married one of my greatest friends."  
  
"Really? That's brilliant, Miss Russell. Did you know anyone who fought in the war?" Lily brushed her brown curls out of her eyes and looked at me.  
  
"Yes, I do know one or two, but they came back to England, not unhurt by the war, but they survived." Thoughts of the aristocratic duke's son and my friend Veronica's husband went through my mind.  
  
Lily was silent for a moment, then she spoke again. "My brother and his friend fought in the war. They joined up in early 1918 and were privates in the artillery. My brother's friend came back, he lives in London and works now in the art business, but my brother didn't come back. He was shot a week before Armistice."  
  
Throughout the whole time that I had known her, Lily had not said that much about her family. I personally did not expect her to because I certainly did not speak about my family to anyone but Holmes. But still, to watch your brother and his friend leave together and then have only the friend return, it must have been quite trying on her family. I looked at Lily and saw that she was crying.  
  
"Don't cry, Lily, those things happened to many people all through England," I said soothingly, but she continued to sob. "My own family died just before the war. My brother and my parents all died at the same time, but I'm still here now. It's alright to mourn, but you shouldn't let it bother you so."  
  
"I suppose that you're right, Miss Russell," she sniffed, "I'm just being a baby about the whole thing. I've always been rather sensitive, that's what Brian, my brother, used to say."  
  
We talked about theology for another hour, then Lily looked at the clock and got up to leave. Before I let her out the door, she turned and spoke to me.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Russell, you've been such a great help. The dean said that I might get through with a First now, instead of just a second. And thanks for the advise, too. I'll try not to dwell on the past so much anymore. Good night, Miss Russell."  
  
"Good night, Lily," I called out as she ran across the street and into the night.  
  
That would be the last that I would ever see of Lily Woodhouse. 


	2. A Bloody Tragedy

The next morning, my landlady's maid came to my room and handed me a telegram from my husband, written in his usual manner.  
  
IN LONDON ON FORGERY CASE. REACH ME AT  
  
MYCROFT'S IF YOU NEED ME. HOPE YOU ARE  
  
WELL. HOLMES  
  
Well at least he was keeping busy, I thought to myself, and he's in a decent mood. I remembered when I left Sussex four days ago, Holmes had not been in the best of moods. He had not had a new and interesting problem to solve since the one from earlier that year. I for one was happy to see him on a job once more. (Please excuse my American accent, I am half American so sometimes I resort to my father's way of speaking.)  
  
I left the telegram on my desk and left for a meeting I was to have with one of the dons at my women's college. The day had dawned sunny and clear for the first time in many days, so instead of driving to the college, I walked. It was nice to get some sunshine after many days of reading in the libraries and seemingly endless rain.  
  
When I arrived at the college a quarter of an hour later, there was great crowd of people who stood outside the gates which were guarded by two large constables. I went up to them and was about to ask what was going on when a voice called my name and the don whom I had come to meet pushed through the giant constables and pulled me through the gate and into the quad. (A/N: a quad is the four-sided courtyard in front of colleges in England)  
  
"Miss Russell, I'm so glad that you made it. Something horrible has happened!"  
  
I looked at the don, surprised. From what I could remember, she had always been a calm and quiet person. Now she seemed to be extremely excited about something. I quickly asked her what had happened.  
  
"I'm so very sorry, Miss Russell, but Miss Woodhouse was found dead this morning, hanging from the light in her room. It looks as if she -er- killed herself."  
  
I stopped in dead in my tracks and stared at the don, open-mouthed.  
  
"That's impossible. I just spoke to her last night and when she left, she seemed to be fine. Oh God! I don't need a dead student on my hands right now. My article must be done by next week."  
  
The don looked at me curiously. "Miss Russell, why on earth are you thinking about your article at a time like this? The student that you were tutoring is dead."  
  
"What I mean, Miss Small, is that I will have to investigate this matter for I will never believe for a moment that Lily would kill herself. Please show me Lily's room so that I can possibly see what happened," I said stubbornly.  
  
The don, whose name was Phoebe Small, raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I've heard of what you do sometimes, Miss Russell. Mrs. Fitzwarren had a lot to say about you after she visited this summer. I suppose you'll also wish to see the two girls who found her."  
  
"Yes, I would, thank you," I replied and we made our way up to Lily's rooms on the second floor of the left wing. As we walked through the hall, I saw eyes watching us through semi-open doors. Finally, we reached the scene of death and Miss Small opened the door.  
  
I turned my eyes away from the hanging body of my former student and looked instead at the ground. There seemed to be not many footprints, the only ones there had small bits of mud on them.  
  
"Have many people been here since she was discovered?"  
  
"No," Miss Small replied, still standing at the door. "The girls that found her did not enter the room to my knowledge and we are waiting for the coroner before we - er - take her down."  
  
"When they do take the body out of the room, Miss Small, is it possible that you can get newspapers or something on the floor to keep the footprints from being ruined by the police. From my experience they seem to only muddle things up before they investigate them," I said and turned to the dead form of Lily Woodhouse.  
  
She had been hanging there for a number of hours, I could see by the colour of her face, which was a dark purple. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought of what Holmes would do in a case like this. Then I looked past the bloated face to the rope that held her in the air. It was attached to the light in a knot that was not a sailors' knot, but it was one that I did not know of. There were also marks on her hands that either were of rope-burn or a scrape from what could have been a fall. There was a chair lying on the floor not too far from her hanging body. It did look very much like a suicide, but something in my mind told me that it was not. I looked back at Miss Small, who had not moved from her place in the doorway.  
  
"There is not much more that I can do here except look at the floor or the furniture. But it would be easier without the body here," I said quietly and felt myself quaver for a moment. I forced myself to not cry. It would not be good to do such a thing right now, it would have to wait for later.  
  
"We might as well see the witnesses, then," I said dejectedly and I followed Miss Small out of the room, closing the door behind me. 


	3. The Witnesses Who Know Nothing

The two young women who had discovered Lily's body were now sitting in the Senior Common Room with cups of tea to calm them with. One of them stood up when we entered the room, while the other just sat there staring off into space.  
  
"Miss Small," the young woman said, "is there any news about Lily?"  
  
"I'm sorry, there isn't," Miss Small replied, then she motioned at me. "This is Mary Russell, she was Miss Woodhouse's tutor and she's curious to know what happened when you found the -er- body of your friend. Miss Russell, this is Harriet Vane, she's studying English at another college."  
  
Harriet Vane was not what many would call a beautiful woman. She had black hair and dark eyes that were extremely intelligent. She was not very tall or thin, but she had a perfect figure for the twenties and she couldn't have been much younger than I was, maybe two or three years. Harriet looked at me with her brow furrowed.  
  
"I have heard something of you, Miss Russell, or am I wrong to say that you know Mr. Sherlock Holmes quite well?"  
  
I'll have to watch this one, I thought, she's very sharp-witted.  
  
"Yes, I know him very well, Miss Vane, but what has that to do with Lily's death?"  
  
"You will probably investigate into it, Miss Russell, won't you?"  
  
"I do not know yet if there was a crime even committed. What interests you so much about my investigating into Lily's death, anyway? You're not guilty of any crimes, are you, Miss Vane?"  
  
To my surprise, she laughed. "I was simply checking, Miss Russell, Lily was one of my best friends and the same goes for Evie here," she said, pointing at the young woman still staring at nothing in particular. "As you can see, she's badly shaken by all of this. The only reason that I'm still standing is that I read a lot of mystery novels and it doesn't really bother me as much."  
  
"Harriet," Miss Small said before I could answer, "I think that Miss Russell would like to hear what you saw when you first entered Miss Woodhouse's room this morning. I know that you and Evelyn want to get back to class."  
  
"Well, you see," Harriet began," we had planned to go to lunch together then attend a lecture at Magdalen. Evie and I came here to get her, but when we knocked on her door, there was no answer. We called for the scout, who said that Lily had not left her room since she entered it last night. She then left to get a don and with a key that she had given us to open the door, we entered to see..." She stopped for a moment, lost in the memory of seeing her friend's purple face and dead eyes staring at them as the two entered. When she recovered, she continued her narrative. "Evie fainted at the precisely the same moment that the scout returned with the don in tow. It took some time to sort everything out, then the police came and we were taken here to wait and to calm down. Evie has only come out of her faint when you entered."  
  
"Did you see anything that seemed out of place?" I inquired when she was finished her story. "Did her belongings seem to be rifled through?"  
  
"No. Wait! There was something, Miss Russell. It seemed to me as if her desk was more messy than it usually was. Lily was a very organized person and I always remember seeing her desk being neat and orderly, unlike my own. But this morning, her papers were strewn all over the desktop in no particular order," Harriet replied.  
  
Evelyn Carsonworth, known to many as Evie, looked up from the sofa where she had sat quietly the whole time. "There was one more thing that did not seem right. Did you notice it, Harriet?"  
  
"No, I don't," said Harriet, "What was it, Evie?"  
  
"Near -er- Lily, I found this." From her pocket, she took a plain gold ring. "I probably should have left it there, but someone else would have taken it and then we would not have much evidence. I don't know about detecting as well as Harriet does, but I know that this is important."  
  
She handed it to me and I looked closely at it. I could see by the size of it that it was a woman's ring and inside of it there was the inscription, 'To L from R'. Otherwise, the ring was very much like my own plain gold ring with not anything special about it.  
  
"May I keep this for now?" I asked Evelyn.  
  
"Yes, Miss Russell, if it can help find out what happened to Lily," she replied.  
  
"Was there a suicide note anywhere in the room?" I asked after a long moment.  
  
"Yes," replied Miss Small, "When the police went over the room, they found a note. They have the original, but I made a copy of it just in case."  
  
"Thank you," I said, taking the piece of paper.  
  
"'I cannot handle this life anymore, it's too painful," I read aloud, "All I can think of is my family and how they all died because of the War. I was meant to die then and I did not, so I will take my life and be with my family forever. Lily Woodhouse.'"  
  
All of us, even the impatient Miss Small, were quiet as the last words of the young woman echoed through the room and faded away. I thought about all of the things that I had seen so far, but all of them led to Lily committing suicide. If that was so, then why on earth did I keep thinking that she was murdered? 


	4. The Detective Takes Over

The rest of the morning I spent talking to Harriet and Evelyn about what they knew about Lily's private life. All that they knew is that she had no family except for an aunt in Derby and her brother's friend in London, who was an art dealer there. After I left them to go to their lecture, I spoke with the local inspector who was obviously used to curious scholars asking questions. However, I learned very little of anything that afternoon and I thought of only one thing that I could do. I could not handle this by myself, I simply did not have any influence over the police like my husband and partner did. The only thing that I could do was to call in Holmes and ask for his help.  
  
I went back to my rooms for tea, then work on my article to take my mind off of today's events. After that I would telephone Mycroft's to send a message to Holmes. However, I did not get to phoning until after ten, when I had finished my article. I went downstairs to use my landlady's telephone and waited while the connection to London went through.  
  
"Hello?" Came my brother-in-law's deep voice, "Who is this?"  
  
"Hello, Mycroft. It's Mary Russell," I replied.  
  
"How are you, Mary? Sherlock said that you are working on an article for an American publication," Mycroft said happily.  
  
"Yes, I just finished that, but something has come up and I need to get a hold of Holmes. It's rather important," I added as an afterthought.  
  
"You are in luck tonight, Mary, for my brother is here with me right now," Mycroft said questioningly, "I'll let you speak with him."  
  
A moment later, Holmes took the instrument and spoke to me.  
  
"Hello, Russell. May I ask what is bothering you so much as to call my brother's house at this time of day? You are very lucky that we are still awake to take your call," he said sardonically.  
  
"There has been a death," I said flatly, "The girl who I was tutoring killed herself last night, or so the police think."  
  
"What do you think about the matter?"  
  
"I have a feeling that she was murdered, Holmes. I spoke with the two who found her and they feel the same way. Lily could have never committed suicide. She just wasn't that kind of person," I said, beginning to feel sick.  
  
Holmes was silent for a moment. "What did you say her name was?"  
  
"Her name was Lily Woodhouse," I answered inquisitively.  
  
"I will be there tomorrow morning or as soon as I can," he said after a moment.  
  
"Does it have to do with the forgery case in London?" I asked.  
  
"Yes, very much indeed," Holmes replied, "See you tomorrow, Russell."  
  
With that he hung up the telephone, leaving me thinking. Why was he so - so detective-like after he found out her name? and how does this death relate to his case in London? It was getting to late and I was too tired to think of answers to these questions, so I went to bed and slept long and deeply.  
  
~ * * * ~  
  
The next morning, I woke up late and heard a sound that was incongruous with the place: the sound of a violin playing a beautiful tune. Another thing that was strange was the smell of a certain pipe tobacco that was very familiar to my nose. I sat up in my bed and looked around the room until my eyes came upon my husband playing his violin with a still-smoking pipe sitting on the table beside him. Grabbing my spectacles, I blinked in disbelief. How on earth did he get in here? I must have made a noise because he stopped and turned to look at me.  
  
"Good morning, Russell. I trust that you had a good sleep?"  
  
"Yes, I did, but how did you get in here so early, Holmes?" I asked sleepily.  
  
"It is not very early, Russell, nearly ten. Your landlady is very trusting, you know," he said, putting his violin back into its case and coming to sit on the side of my bed. "She let me into your room without a doubt to my being your husband. There is a good side to being married to one's partner, I suppose."  
  
I yawned. "I suppose that you want to know all that's happened so far."  
  
"Yes, of course. That is why I am here instead of in London. A murder is far more important than a simple forgery case," he drawled.  
  
"I'm sorry that I took you from London. I know you like it there," I apologized.  
  
"The way that your voice sounded last night on the telephone, I knew that this death hit you quite close. How much do you know of the girl?" Holmes asked.  
  
I then told him about everything that had happened since two nights ago, when Lily had spoken to me about her grief. It was hard to speak when I told him of her body hanging there with a bloated tongue sticking out of her mouth and a purple face. I simply shook the memory of it from my mind and continued on with my narrative. I told Holmes about what Harriet and Evelyn found and should him the ring. He looked at it and handed it back to me, saying nothing more than, "It is suggestive."  
  
When I finally finished, he said nothing, but instead got his pipe and lit it.  
  
"What do you think of the matter, Holmes?"  
  
"It is very interesting, I'll tell you that," he said after a moment. "From what you've told me, it seems to be a perfect suicide." I began to protest, but he cut me off. "However, it is a little too perfect for my liking. It is obvious that the note was forged and planted, but the ring's presence bothers me. Tell me, do you trust the two witnesses?"  
  
"I'm not quite sure yet. I have not known them very long," I said, rather surprised at his question. "But if you insist, Evelyn is very quiet and reserved and she was very much affected by seeing Lily -er- dead. Harriet did not seem to be affected by it at all. Maybe she is tougher and less prone to fainting and the vapours. But I myself would be very much affected by seeing someone hanging there like that and I was when I entered the room yesterday morning."  
  
"That is what I find strange, Russell. Miss Vane should not have been so - so calm as she was if she was good friends with Miss Woodhouse as you thought her to be," Holmes said thoughtfully.  
  
"It did seem as if Evelyn was better friends with Lily than Harriet was. Maybe they were more acquaintances or classmates than friends," I said looking at my watch that sat on the beside table. "I hope that you don't mind, but I'd rather get breakfast over with before lunch begins."  
  
"Of course," Holmes said, standing up and moving towards the door. "I'll go tell your landlady that we would like breakfast soon." He disappeared out the door before I could reply that I didn't usually eat breakfast in Oxford and that I usually went straight to the Bodleian or to one of the colleges.  
  
"It's hopeless," I muttered to myself, then I extricated my body from the bed and put on the day's clothes. So much for calling in the detective for assistance, he meant to take over. 


	5. A Pretty Problem

When Holmes re-entered the room, I glared at him in the mirror as I did my hair for the day. I was not in the best of moods that morning and Holmes' obvious cheerfulness annoyed me greatly.  
  
"Holmes, how can you be so cursed happy? Someone is dead and furthermore, it's someone who I knew quite well, and all you can do is act cheerful. I'd take any one of your grouchy days compared to this!"  
  
"Russell, I do not get grouchy," he replied calmly, "And please, do not snort. It is a most unbecoming sound for me to hear from you. I suppose you picked up that habit in America."  
  
I ignored this statement. "Holmes, what do you plan on doing today?"  
  
"I was thinking of seeing the body, interrogating the police, and looking at the scene of the crime," he said, "As well as enjoying a beautiful autumn day in Oxford with my dear wife."  
  
Turning abruptly, I stared at him, very curious at the origin of his words.  
  
"Alright, Holmes, what is it?"  
  
"What is what, Russell? I hope that you do not plan on asking me questions that make no sense during this case. If I remember correctly, the last case began with you asking me a very similar question."  
  
"I meant to ask what is it that has put you in such a good mood because the only reason that you usually get into a good mood is when you know something that I do not," I growled.  
  
"When I was in London working on my forgery case. I noticed that the suspected art forger had a letter from a certain Lily Woodhouse of Oxford. I am intrigued by the connection between the two," he said, looking out the window to the street beyond. "Today, Russell, while I am looking over the particulars of the girl's death, I would very much like you to look into the girl's background and see how she is related to this forger and about how rich she was."  
  
I stood there, surprised. "You mean that Lily's death and the forgery problem are related? And what about her being rich?" I could see no connection between the two cases and thought furiously to think of one.  
  
Holmes came over to me and took my hand. "Trust me on this, Russell. Something is definitely wrong with this death and I am grasping at straws simply to get some much-needed data."  
  
"But why, Holmes? You never guess or assume anything," I protested.  
  
"Until I can get sufficient amounts of information, I must assume things to get a moderately clear picture in my mind. Good luck, Russell," he said, bringing my hand to his lips for a moment, then he left the room.  
  
I stood there once more, surprised. Will I ever understand that man? With a shrug, I put on a comfortable pair of shoes and left to find out about the heavily shadowed life of my student.  
  
~ * * * ~  
  
The first place that I went was Lily's college, where I found Miss Small and asked her whereabouts I could find Lily's records. She seemed to be rather unhappy to see me again, but she reluctantly told me that I should ask the Warden. So I gladly left Miss Small and sought out the Warden.  
  
"You're looking into Miss Woodhouse's death, I believe?" She asked when I found her in her office. "It is a sad event. She was a very nice and quiet girl, much unlike some of the one's who come in here looking for a good time away from home."  
  
"Yes, Dr. Bell, I want to know a little bit more about Lily so that maybe I can find some clues to why she would die," I said respectfully.  
  
"Very good of you to do so, Miss Russell," Dr. Bell said as she stood up and opened a chest of drawers. "You are not the first person to ask me for these, you know. Two weeks ago, Miss Small came and asked for it, but I cannot remember what her reason was." She took out a folder and handed it to me. "You cannot take this away from this room, Miss Russell. Now I'll leave you to your detecting."  
  
I watched her leave and thought, news travels very fast in a place like this. Other wise, how else did she know of my hobby which seemed to take up more time than I liked it to? I left the question and pursued the folder, which presented me with the most interesting information.  
  
Apparently, Lily was a very wealthy young woman with a total of half a million pounds sterling to her name. It had been left to her by her father, who died just after the war of pneumonia. Originally, most of it would have gone to her older brother, but since he had been killed in the war, everything went to her. Other than that, I found nothing of interest.  
  
I put the file on the warden's desk and left the room, wondering where I could go next. Strolling through the college's quad, I thought for a moment about how I could find out how Lily was connected with this supposed art forger. Only one name came to my mind, that was the one of my powerful brother-in-law, Mycroft Holmes.  
  
Hurrying back to my loggings, I put through a call to Mycroft's office in Whitehall.  
  
"Hello," he said after the connection went through.  
  
"Hello, Mycroft," I said, "It's Mary again."  
  
"Has my younger brother gone astray? He tends to do that rather often."  
  
"No, Holmes is like a hound on the hunt. I wanted to ask if you can find some information for me about a certain Lily Woodhouse and any connection she might have with the suspected art forger whom Holmes was investigating in London."  
  
"Yes, I believe that I can find something of interest for you."  
  
"Thank you very much, Mycroft."  
  
"Your welcome, Mary, and please excuse me for the Prime Minister is waiting to see me. Good luck, Mary," he said, then hung up the telephone.  
  
With that out of the way, I left to go see what my husband was up to and to see if he had found some of his precious 'data'. If he had, then maybe we could get somewhere with this perplexing case.  
  
~ * ~ Help! If you have any ideas for what can happen next, please tell me! ~ * ~  
  
Thank you to all of you who reviewed this story and a big thank you to Rachel for the great idea that she gave me. 


	6. Clues That Lead Nowhere

I found Holmes at the police station, berating the constable who seemed to be very embarrassed about something. Stopping Holmes in mid-sentence, I pulled him away and asked him what he had found out about Lily's death.  
  
"Well," he began, "after I finally got that lazy inspector to get the an autopsy done, I looked over the girl's room and found some very interesting things."  
  
"I hope that your 'interesting things' are better than what I found out," I said rather sarcastically.  
  
"For one, the footprints that were not yours in that room were that of two people. One was a man who was about your height, Russell, and had a small limp. He is strong and rather muscular - also right-handed. The other person is a woman - possibly in her mid-twenties with dark hair and is not very tall, probably a few inches over five feet. That is all I could discern from the footsteps, except that your Miss Woodhouse did not step on the floor and leave footprints at any place in that room," he said, leading me out of the police station.  
  
"But, Holmes," I said, "How could you see that in those prints? When I looked, there was nothing much that really showed what sort of person they were from."  
  
"You did not look through the whole room, Russell. There was some mud on the footprints, in case you did not notice. If I am correct, it was raining here Monday night, then the mud would be usually expected. It also looks as if the murderers, as I will now call them, are clever, but do not have experience in crimes such as this. So, Russell, what did you find out?"  
  
We had walked through the old streets of the scholarly city and had ended up at the river, which was empty now because of the cold, wet weather. I stared into the water as Holmes spoke. His question drew me out of my reverie.  
  
"Did you not mention that you had found something else, Holmes?"  
  
"Yes, I did, but I want to hear what you found out first," he replied.  
  
I paused and thought of what I had found, more likely what I had not found.  
  
"Lily was a very wealthy young woman," I began, "But her university records said nothing of her own will or of a connection with anyone in London. However, I did 'phone Mycroft and ask him to get someone to find some information on a connection there."  
  
Holmes sighed, "I suppose that is all you could do without leaving Oxford."  
  
"So, Holmes," I said after a silence, "What is it that you found out?"  
  
He threw a stone into the water and watched it as it skipped across the surface.  
  
"On the girl's bedside table, there was a tea cup with the reminisce of her last cup of tea. I smelled it and it was a very strong cup of mint tea that strangely smelled of laudanum. Do many students take a sleeping potion at night?"  
  
"Yes, I am afraid that they do. Even I did sometimes so that I could get some sleep once in a while," I replied, "So you think that it made it easier to murder her?"  
  
"Of course. When one is drugged, it's harder to wake up when someone hangs you. The case clearly now points to a cold-blooded murder. I'm sorry, Russell," he said softly as I looked away with tears in my eyes. "I now that it's hard to lose someone that you knew to murder; I lost someone myself, once." His grey eyes seemed faraway for a moment as I stared at him, rather surprised to hear this from him. I would have to ask him about it sometime.  
  
"Holmes, what can we do right now so that we can find Lily's murderers? I won't rest until I can find out who they are and see them put to justice," I said with a stronger voice than I really felt.  
  
Holmes smiled. "That's my Russell. To answer your question, which is a very good one, we can look at the contents of her will to see who she left all of her money to. That means that we will have to discover who her barrister is. One more thing is that I have a strong feeling that this is an inside job. Someone who belongs to that college had to let the killer in because there was no sign of a break-and-enter. It is rather suggestive." He frowned for a moment, then continued. "Russell, I will discover the contents of Miss Woodhouse's will and you can probe the college for the accomplice to this murder. I believe that the real killer was the man, while the accomplice was the woman. Remember her description?"  
  
"No, not really," I replied sheepishly.  
  
"She was short, with dark hair, and was probably in her mid- twenties."  
  
I suddenly realized something at that moment. "Holmes!"  
  
"What is it, Russell?"  
  
"There are many who look like that at the college, but I remember one in particular that strikes me as being the top suspect," I said excitedly.  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Miss Phoebe Small. She was the one who showed me Lily's room on the morning after the murder. She has black hair, is a few years older than I am, and is quite short. Holmes, she is also clever enough to plan something like this out."  
  
"Then immerse yourself into university life and watch her carefully. But, Russell, please be careful. We don't know how she will react when you've cornered her and we don't have any proof. Don't do anything rash, please," he said.  
  
"Of course, Holmes," I replied, feeling like a schoolgirl. "I promise not to do anything too drastic."  
  
He looked at me questioningly with a raised eyebrow, then turned to leave.  
  
"But, it is far too late to do anything at the moment. Come, Russell, dinner awaits us at your landlady's expense," he said and we walked to my loggings, but still in my mind, even in the comfort of my husband's company, I saw the bloated and purple face of my one-time student. 


	7. Clues Leading Somewhere

I was alone in a dark room and all around me I could hear the evil laugh of my old math tutor, Patricia Donleavy, who tried to murder me and Holmes. (A/N: see 'The Beekeeper's Apprentice) I tried to find an exit out of the room, but found none. Then suddenly, a light went on and shone on the hanging body of Lily Woodhouse. Her face was purple and her bloated tongue stuck out of her mouth, but something was very wrong with her face. Her eyes were actually blinking and then her mouth opened and she began to speak. I couldn't hear what she was saying, however, and I did not wish to step closer to her to find out. It seemed as if she were naming her murderers and I badly wanted to hear their names. Then, she began to cough and lifted her hand.  
  
"Help me, Miss Russell," was all that I heard before her eyes ceased to blink. But that was not the end of the dream. I was back in time to 1914 in California, in the car with my parents and my brother. It all happened again; me yelling at my brother, my father turning around in his seat to make us be quiet, a car hitting ours, and me being thrown out of the car as it fell over the edge of the cliff and exploding.  
  
"No!" I cried as I sat up in bed.  
  
The whole thing had been a dream.  
  
"Good God, Russell! Are you alright?" Holmes said worriedly, sitting up and staring at me with wide eyes.  
  
I crawled out of bed and put on my dressing gown. "I'm fine, Holmes, go back to sleep. I'll just go get a cup of tea."  
  
He moved to follow me, but I stopped him. "I'm alright, really. It was just a dream, Holmes, only a bad dream." With that, I left the room and went downstairs for a cup of tea. I was unable to sleep after that because I didn't wish to close my eyes and see my dream again. So I made good use of the time by writing down the facts of the case and trying to make some sense of them. Times, people, and events were placed in order and when I put my pen down, I felt as if I finally had some grasp on the facts. At about four o'clock, I heard Holmes get out of bed and enter the small room that I used for much of my work. He stood behind me and looked at my writing.  
  
"Was your dream so bad that you cannot go back to sleep?" he said quietly.  
  
"It was the Dream, Holmes, I saw my family die again, only this time, the dream began with Lily hanging there and telling me the names of her murderers, only I couldn't hear her and she died," I looked up at him and saw myself reflected in his stormy grey eyes. "Holmes, it was horrible. I've never had a dream worse than that before."  
  
Holmes put his hand on my shoulder comfortingly.  
  
"Don't worry, my dear Russell, we should be finished this case soon, then we can go home. Come, you should get some sleep. The dream shouldn't return now," he said, taking my hand and pulling me up from the chair. "We will both need the rest for tomorrow. I think that everything should come together then."  
  
I allowed him to lead me back to bed and, as always, he was right, for I slept peacefully for another three hours, until I was rudely awoken. Holmes shook my shoulder hard and commanded me to wake up. I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. He then pulled the blanket back down and put his mouth to mine in a full kiss. I immediately was awake, but I didn't want to push him away. After a long moment, he lifted his head.  
  
"Are you now awake?" he said with a smile.  
  
"Yes," I replied as I sat up ans threw back the covers.  
  
"Good, because it's nearly time for you to go the college and I need to catch the train to London," he said moving over to the mirror, where he fixed his hair.  
  
"Holmes," I said, "Why did you wake me up that way? Before it was usually a hard shake or some loud noises or something of the sort."  
  
"It woke you up did it not?" was all he said as he looked at his watch.  
  
I sighed at the unromantic feelings of my husband and got myself ready for the day. Would I ever understand him, I thought as I got dressed. Probably not, a voice in my head said, and personally I agreed with it perfectly.  
  
~ * * * ~  
  
At nine o'clock, I saw Holmes off on the train and travelled to the college, where I would immerse myself for the day to discover more about one of Lily's murderers. The job wouldn't be very easy, but I would try my best at it. The first thing that I did was to make my presence known to a large part of the college by walking through the halls and asking questions of the students and lecturers about of two nights ago. Many had rooms in a different section of the college from Lily, and therefore heard nothing out of the ordinary. However, some of the young women who had rooms down the hall from Lily had some interesting things to tell me.  
  
"Well," one of them said, "I'm sure that I heard a man's voice in the hall, but, you know, I could have been dreaming or something."  
  
"At about midnight," another told me, "I heard people walking in the hall, but I didn't feel like getting out of bed to tell them to be quiet."  
  
The third young woman I spoke to was more helpful than the first two.  
  
"I had a science paper due the next day, so I was up past midnight trying to finish it. Just when I had finished and turned out the light, I heard soft voices in the hall. One of them I was sure was a man's, and they aren't allowed in here after hours, so I poked my head out into the hall to see what was happening. It was dark, so I didn't see much, but two people were there; one was tall and looked like a man, while the other was short and looked like a woman, most likely one of the dons from what I saw. They disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall and I went to bed."  
  
"Thank you very much," I said, "This helps quite a lot, you know."  
  
With an idea of what happened that night, I went to the Senior Common Room to speak with the dons and find out the identity of the murderer. Miss Small, the dean, and the Warden were all there as well as some of the lecturers. I obtained a cup of tea and sat down among them.  
  
"Well, Miss Russell," Miss Small said, "I hope that you're clearing up our little problem here."  
  
"It is rather disturbing to have such a thing happen," said the dean.  
  
"I have found out quite a bit about the identity of at least one of the murderers," I said calmly, "And my husband has gone to London to look up on the other person who was, I must add, a man."  
  
"What about the other person, Miss Russell?" asked the Warden.  
  
"She belongs to this college and is most likely a don because she had some sort of authority to get the man into the college after hours. One of the students saw them in the hall and others heard them. Also, footprints and other evidence in the room helped us to get a rough description of the assailants," I replied watching the looks on all the women's faces.  
  
Miss Small looked uncomfortable. "Well, will you tell us who it is then? I would like to know who the traitor in our midst is, Miss Russell."  
  
I looked at her rather sharply. "I will not say until my husband returns and we gather enough evidence to properly send these criminals to justice, Miss Small. I'm very sorry to ruin your fun." I put down my empty cup. "I must be off, good afternoon."  
  
I left the room and was hurrying across the quad when I heard a voice calling my name. Turning, I saw Harriet Vane running up to me.  
  
"Miss Russell! May I speak to you for a moment, please?"  
  
"Yes, of course," I replied.  
  
"Not here, though, maybe in the library," Harriet said, "It's very important."  
  
I knew fully well that this could be a trap, but something told me that it wasn't.  
  
"Alright," was all that I said as I followed her into the college library.  
  
When we sat down at a table, Harriet began to quietly speak.  
  
"As you probably have guessed, Lily and I were not close friends. It was through Evelyn that I met her. However, I do know one thing that may help you find out who her murderer was."  
  
"Why didn't you say anything before?"  
  
"Evie made me swear never to tell anyone, but now I think that it would help find out what happened to Lily that night," she replied, then stopped.  
  
"Please, Harriet, if it will help me, please tell me," I said urgently.  
  
"Lily was engaged to be married, that's where the ring came from."  
  
I suddenly remembered the ring that had been found in Lily's room and kicked myself, metaphorically of course, for not remembering the object that obviously was quite important to the case.  
  
"To you know to whom she was engaged, Harriet?" I asked.  
  
"To her brother's friend, Robert Parker, who is an art dealer in London."  
  
"And, may I ask, does he have a limp on his left leg and is rather muscular?"  
  
"Yes he is, how did you guess, Miss Russell?"  
  
"I have my ways, now, tell me this, do you know if he would inherit anything if Lily died?" I asked her, my heart beating quickly as my mind put all of the facts together.  
  
"As a matter of fact, Lily did mention something once about it. Being an orphan with no close family and leaving everything to Mr. Parker if she died," Harriet replied.  
  
I sat silent for a moment, then thought of something. "Harriet," I said, "You should be careful of yourself until the murderers are caught because I can't be sure if anything will happen to you."  
  
"Do you think that something will?"  
  
"I'm not sure, Harriet, but it's always good to take a precaution," I replied, then got up to leave. Harriet got up also and walked me out into the quad.  
  
"Good luck, Miss Russell," she said as we parted and I left for the telegram office for I had some very important information that Holmes should know about. I just hoped that he hadn't found out about already, but as I was soon to find out, he had. 


	8. Murder Most Cruel

When I came out of the telegraph office, it was pouring rain and I could see some lightning off in the distance. Looking down the empty street, I saw no one and no cab. I sighed heavily and scowled into the rain as I ran into it. You see, I had brought no umbrella with me. I thought for a moment about heading back to my loggings, but I remembered that the college was closer.  
  
The college quad was empty, but many lights were on in the building, so I entered to escape from the storm. I handed my dripping coat and hat to the porter and continued on to the Senior Common Room, where I was bound to find someone to talk to and something hot to drink.  
  
Upon my entering, the Dean jumped up and called for a scout to bring some hot tea for me. A small group of tutors as well as the Dean and the Warden were gathered there.  
  
"Miss Russell! Are you alright? It's raining quite hard out there and you must be fagged from running from building to building. Please sit down," said the Warden kindly.  
  
"Thank you," was all I could say as I fell down into a chair.  
  
Miss Small was there staring at me, but I ignored her and happily held the warm cup of tea that the scout had brought for me. The whole room was quiet and seemed to be looking at me as if waiting for me to say something, but I did not. I felt like an intruder in this strange world of the college, even though I lived in Oxford half of the time. When I finished the tea, I coughed politely and looked around me.  
  
"I suppose that you wish to know what I have found out about Lily Woodhouse's mysterious death?" No one spoke, so I continued with a sudden plan in my head to catch the murderer red-handed.  
  
"I believe that I know the identity of the woman accomplice," was all that I said.  
  
Silence reigned in the room, but all of the women looked at each other warily, as if they suspected each other of the crime. The Warden finally spoke up.  
  
"Miss Russell, will you not tell us whom this person is so that we can speak with them to hear their side of the story?"  
  
"I regret, Madam, that I cannot because I simply don't have enough evidence to send them to court. I am only working on suspicions and assumptions for the moment," I gulped and continued, "But my -er- partner is looking up the real murderer, the man, in London and when he is found, then the whole plot will be exposed. Then, I can for sure tell you which person in this college is guilty."  
  
The Warden nodded. "That is a smart thing to do, Miss Russell, but you may put yourself in danger from this person if they have heard you say that you know what they did. I have learned that when people feel that they are threatened, they will retaliate against the person who threatens them."  
  
"I realise that, madam, but I can't do anything until I get word from London. So at the moment my hands are tied and all I can do is sit and wait for an answer." I stood up and went to the door. "I must be going now, good evening ladies," I said and left the room without another word.  
  
The Warden was right in her assumptions, though. By making this trap for the murderer, I was putting myself in danger, just what Holmes told me not to do. But I couldn't think of any other way of trapping Miss Small. I now name my suspect because, even without evidence, I was sure that she had killed Lily. I did not have any idea why she would resort to murdering a student, but from what I knew of her she was filled with anger and did not let any of it show. With this trap that I was still creating in my mind, I would capture her red-handed, but while doing this, I would put myself in great danger.  
  
Lost in thought, I walked out of the college grounds and into the darkening streets. It was now about dinner, so the streets were empty, but luckily it had stopped raining, so I did not get any more wet than I was. Then, I thought of something I had forgotten and hurried back to the college. As I went back through the gate, I checked my watch. The next train from London would be arriving in 5 minutes and hopefully Holmes had received my telegram and was on that train because in a few minutes I would need his assistance.  
  
The library was empty when I entered, as most everyone was either in their rooms or in the hall eating dinner. I wandered around the shelves, pretending to be looking at books, but really deep in thought. At the far end of the room, I came to a table covered in paper and piles of books. Curiously, I looked at them, but saw nothing of interest. Then, in a dark corner, I saw a crumpled piece of paper lying there, so I went to see what it was. As I bent to pick it up, I heard a noise behind me. Before I had time to turn around and face the person, two strong hands placed themselves around my neck and squeezed down upon the large blood vessels there. Clouds swam before my eyes and I tried to cry out, but I found that I could not.  
  
"I've got you now, haven't I, Miss Russell," laughed the voice of Pheobe Small, "This will show you not to mess with my plans again!" Her hands pressed tighter on my throat.  
  
I got a hold of my senses before they disappeared and hit Miss Small in the stomach with my elbow. She grunted and her hands let go a touch, but not enough. The blackness was getting closer and closer, and I stopped struggling.  
  
Before I lost consciousness, the library door flew open and a crowd of people burst through, led by Holmes. Behind him I could see the police inspector with a bunch of constables, the Dean, the Warden, and behind them Harriet Vane and Evelyn Smith. Holmes ran up to Miss Small and I, threw Miss Small into the arms of the inspector, and caught me before the blackness consumed everything and I fell limp into unconsciousness. 


	9. The Lowest of Low

I was in a long tunnel and at the end I could see a pinpoint of light, but I did not hurry towards it because I remembered the words of a dear friend of mine, who had nearly died during the war.  
  
"I you ever find yourself in a tunnel with a light at the end," he told me, "never go to that light because that is death, Mary. When I was in the hospital, I could hear the cries of the dying that they were approachin' the light and a few minutes later, they were dead." He had then straightened his monocle and laughed, "Of course, I can't see that happenin' any time soon to the either of us, except for an angry criminal, I suppose."  
  
So, following his advice, I turned towards the dark end and found myself waking on a bed in the room of a student. My hand reached for my sore neck and I knew that there would be bruises there that showed where Miss Small had tried to strangle me. A horrible headache raged in my head. I slowly sat up and listened to the voices which I could hear in the hallway.  
  
"We shall be needing a statement soon, Mr. Holmes," said the voice of the police inspector, "Is Miss Russell up and about yet?"  
  
"No, not yet, inspector," replied Holmes, "She was nearly strangled to death by your prisoner and all you can think about is getting your statement. Had you been of any greater assistance to her, you might just have your statement by now. When she is ready to give it, I will bring her to the station. Thank you inspector."  
  
The inspector trudged away and Holmes entered the room, closing the door behind him. When he turned, he noticed that I was sitting up on the bed.  
  
"Ah, Russell," he said, "I am glad to see that you decided to return from the realms of the dead. You have been unconscious for all night and I was just beginning to get worried."  
  
From the sound of his voice, he seemed more annoyed than worried.  
  
"What happened with you, Holmes? I had expected you a whole three minutes earlier than you came," I protested, "Did the telegram not reach you on time?"  
  
"No, the telegram did reach me on time, but the train was late getting into the station and the inspector was difficult to persuade," he replied.  
  
"Oh," I said, "Where is Miss Small now? and did you find your art forger in London?"  
  
Holmes looked at his watch impatiently. "I will tell you on the way to the police station, Russell. The dear inspector should not be kept waiting, you know."  
  
"Can't I have a glass of water before I go?"  
  
He unceremoniously handed me a glass of water from a table and watched impatiently as I gulped it down quickly and stood up. For a moment the room seemed to spin, but then I got control of my head and stumbled behind Holmes as he left the room.  
  
Walking through the hallway, a heard a voice call my name, so I stopped as saw Harriet Vane come up behind us. Her thick dark hair was slightly messy and her brown eyes were worried.  
  
"Are you alright, Miss Russell? I saw what Miss Small did to you and I wanted to see if you were okay now. It was quite frightening when Mr. Holmes stopped at the S.C.R. to get the dean and the warden and then got me to come along also just in case," she said.  
  
"Yes, Harriet, I'm fine," I replied, "It was better that she got me rather than anyone else, though. I'd hate to see you, the dean, or the warden hurt because of my inquiries. Miss Small could have murdered any of you over the last few days."  
  
"Yes, I suppose so," said Harriet, then she added, "I also wanted to tell you that this whole thing has given me some great ideas for what I wish to become one day." "And what is that, Harriet?" I asked.  
  
"An author of detective stories," she said with a smile, "Good-bye, Miss Russell."  
  
Holmes was impatiently waiting for me in the quad. When I joined him, he took my arm and led me towards the police station. He then began to speak.  
  
"Miss Small is now in the local jail and, after the case is brought to court, will probably be hung for murder. My art forger, as you call him, is also here because this is a case of the local constabulary. Mycroft actually found him and, when I arrived in London, told me where he was and that he was the man who would inherit all of Miss Woodhouse's money. Did you have anything to do with asking my brother to help out?"  
  
"Yes, I did, Holmes," I answered, "I needed to find out where Lily's money was left, so I asked Mycroft to have someone look it up for me."  
  
"Ah, I see. Well, it was rather helpful, Russell," Holmes said.  
  
"Who was this mysterious art forger anyway, Holmes?"  
  
"Robert Parker was his name and he came from Spitalfields in the East End of the city. His family was extremely poor and his father had a previous criminal record. To raise his situation, he worked as a clerk in an art dealer's store and later took it over when his employer retired. Parker soon found that he was not making enough money to support his rather lavish lifestyle, so he began to forge one or two pieces of famous paintings and sold them for large amounts of money. As he became more greedy, he forged more and more until his 'works' gave some notice to the authorities," Holmes told me as we approached the police station.  
  
"Have the two told why they murdered Lily yet?"  
  
"No, they have not," Holmes said, "We have been waiting for you, Russell."  
  
I didn't dare reply to this, so we entered the station in silence. A constable hurried up to us and told us that the inspector was interrogating his prisoners in his office. Holmes thanked him and guided me towards the inspector's office.  
  
The room when we arrived there already seemed to be filled with people, most of them being constables. The inspector was there, looking rather harried, and when he saw us, he jumped to the door to open it for Holmes and I. The inspector spoke to the constables and four of them left, so in the room there was only now one constable, the inspector, Holmes and I, and the two murderers.  
  
Miss Small, when she noticed me, scowled. "I was hoping that you would be more injured, Miss Russell. Dead would have been preferable."  
  
The constable quickly wrote down all of her words and the inspector said to her quietly. "Everything that you say will be used against you, you know."  
  
"Why should I care? I'm going to hang anyway, so I can say whatever I want to, inspector," she replied angrily.  
  
The man who sat beside her looked at Holmes and me with a look that could have frightened my greedy aunt to death. He would have been handsome except for the look of pure hatred in his eyes. I supposed this to be the art 'dealer' Robert Parker.  
  
"Why must they be here, inspector? Pheobe and I did not ask for an audience," he said archly, looking at the inspector with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Mr. Holmes and his wife have the superintendent's permission to be here, Mr. Parker, so you'll just have to have them listen to your statements also," the inspector replied curtly.  
  
Miss Small started and glared at me. "Wife? You're Mr. Holmes's wife?"  
  
I couldn't help smiling when I replied in the affirmative. Miss Small swore vividly until the inspector told her to be quiet. Holmes smiled momentarily and nodded at the inspector, who then turned to the prisoners.  
  
"Please tell your story about the murder of Miss Lily Woodhouse," he said to them, "Everything that you say will be used in the court room against you and you must tell the truth or lying to the police will also be charged against you."  
  
Parker sneered perfectly like the antagonist in a Gothic novel and turned to Miss Small. "You tell them, Pheobe, I couldn't tell them the truth for anything. Anyway, with your education, you'd tell it better."  
  
Miss Small sighed and began her story. 


	10. A Plot Reveal'd

"I met Mr. Parker through the Miss Woodhouse last year here in Oxford. On a trip to London, I met with him again and we quickly became friends. I have always been interested in art and Mr. Parker was an art dealer, so it seemed natural that we should become friends. Anyway, he was getting short of money because the police had found out that he was a forger and were coming after him, so his clients stopped buying from him. He asked me to help him find a way to get more money," Miss Small said.  
  
"I just have one question," said Holmes, "Why would he ask you to help him?"  
  
She looked away from his glare. "During that time, he had become engaged to Lily, but he told me that it was only for her money. He also said that he would rather marry me instead and that he had fallen in love with me, but I have very little money. Barely enough to keep us living in Bloomsbury."  
  
Holmes raised his eyebrow questioningly and turned his glare to Parker, who seemed to be sulking in his chair. "Why Miss Small, may I ask? Surely Miss Woodhouse would have been enough for you."  
  
"Pheobe has what Lily didn't; character," Parker said, "Lily may have been a sweet girl and all that, but she was too innocent for my liking. I liked her because she had the money I needed."  
  
I nearly opened my mouth to yell at the man, but Holmes saw the anger in my face and quickly interrupted me.  
  
"That's very interesting, Mr. Parker," was all he said, "It certainly adds to your sentence a few years because it was planned very long beforehand."  
  
Parker glared at him and was silent. Miss Small continued her narrative.  
  
"After Lily changed her will to leave everything to Mr. Parker, we decided to get rid of Lily and collect her fortune. We thought of a traffic accident, but that could be easily traced. Falling off of Magdalen Tower wouldn't have worked either because Lily was afraid of heights. The only thing that would really work was to make it look like suicide," she told us.  
  
"You certainly didn't do a very good job at it," I snapped, "Four or five of the students heard your voices in the hall and you left your footprints all over the room. What you did was a very messy job that any real criminal would laugh at."  
  
Holmes touched my arm. "It's alright, Russell. Let them finish their story, then you can yell and scream at them all you want," he muttered into my ear.  
  
"As I was saying," Miss Small said sarcastically, "Lily was a bit depressed because she lost all of her family during the war. Her brother died in battle, and her parents died of grief. So eventually, she might have had enough and hung herself. That's what we tried to make of it all; even to the point of getting rid of her engagement ring, which Mr. Parker threw across the room into a dark corner. Had we known that a real detective would have been investigating into the matter, we would have been more careful. But, as it went, we thought that the police would simply say that it was a definite suicide and we would have gotten off with all of the money."  
  
"What about Miss Woodhouse's will?" Holmes asked, "Surely stealing it from the Warden's office is going a bit too far?"  
  
"I had to take it after I found out that Miss Russell here was getting a bit too curious," Miss Small sneered, "That's also why I had to make her quiet before she could tell the police what she knew."  
  
"Even if you had murdered me, Miss Small," I said as calmly as I could, "I had sent a telegram to my husband telling him that you were indeed the second murderer, so killing me would simply have added to your reasons for hanging you."  
  
Miss Small glowered at me but said nothing.  
  
"One thing that I would like to know," the inspector said to Parker, "is how long you have been looking at getting Miss Woodhouse's fortune. Did her brother tell you about it during the war?"  
  
"Yes, he told me about it," Parker replied coldly, "and he also asked me to look after his sister for him if he died. They were very close were very attached to each other."  
  
After the two were led out of the office, the inspector looked sheepishly at Holmes.  
  
"Once again you found the answers before we did, Mr. Holmes," he said, "and you too, Miss Russell. I never would have thought it to be Miss Small, though I believed you on the London man. You can't trust those city types in a town like this, you know. Anyway, I'd like to thank you both for the help you gave me and my force."  
  
"Well," Holmes replied rather lost for words, "It had to be done and I was looking for Parker in London, except as an art forger instead. Russell did most of the work, really, because she knew Miss Woodhouse quite well."  
  
* * *  
  
One week after these events, I lay on the grass of the South Downs, watching the water below the cliffs. Neither Holmes nor I had even spoken of what happened to us in Oxford; I had even tried not to think about them. But now as I lay there, everything played out in my mind until I could finally make sense of it all. The sun was setting when I heard a sound beside me, and I realized that I had actually fallen asleep.  
  
"It's nearly dinner, Russell," Holmes said, sitting down on the grass beside me. "You know how Mrs. Hudson hates to be kept waiting and anyway, it's getting rather cold for an outdoor slumber, don't you think?"  
  
"Holmes," I said quietly, "Why does it seem as if good people have to die simply because someone else wants what they have? I mean, couldn't have Parker just married Lily and used her money then instead of killing her to get it?"  
  
Holmes took out his pile and filled it. "Greed is something that some people have in excess, Russell. Parker knew that if he married Lily, she would have not let him take too much of it and then he wouldn't have been able to have Miss Small either," he sighed and looked towards the channel. "I feel that if I had not waited to catch him in London, your student would have still been alive and none have this would have happened."  
  
I laid my hand on top of his. "Some things happen, Holmes, that we all say we could have prevented, but there's nothing we can do to change the past and stop what happened. Anyway, it got me out of Oxford," I added with a smile.  
  
"On that I couldn't agree more, my dear Russell," Holmes said getting up and offering a hand to me. I took it and we walked home in perfect solidarity to dinner.  
  
~ * * * ~  
  
Author's Note  
  
Perhaps I should add a few things before I complete this story about what occurred to some of the characters. Soon after these events, Holmes and Russell took a trip to the European Continent, where they met some more interesting adversaries and problems. Life was quiet for them during the next year and a half, but in 1923, the two of them solved three intriguing cases in a row. Whenever they mentioned this case, it was always alluded to as the 'forgery case' because neither of them wanted to speak of it for it brought pain to them both.  
  
Harriet Vane graduated with top honours from university and became a famous novelist. In 1929, she was tried for murder, but was acquitted with the help of another famous detective, Lord Peter Wimsey. The two of them solved two cases together, one of them at her Oxford college, before they married in 1935.  
  
The duo of Miss Small and Mr. Parker were tried and hung for the murder of Lily Woodhouse on October 2, 1921, three weeks after the events mentioned in the story. The jury only took fifteen minutes to discuss before they reached their verdict.  
  
All of the Woodhouse money was donated to the women's college and was greatly appreciated by the dean and the warden.  
  
Thanks to all of the people who reviewed this story for their wonderful and helpful thoughts. I would also like to thank Arthur Conan Doyle, Laurie R. King, and Dorothy L. Sayers for making up the characters that I used; it's their novels and stories that have given me much of my inspiration to write. 


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